‘Did I say he would blame me? Shall I break his heart because he would have no right to blame me for doing so?’ ‘They cannot wish you to go on leading this hell upon earth existence any longer,’ said Hans savagely. ‘Sit down here, on this bench beside me, and let us see the thing fairly, from all sides.’ She shook her head. ‘My friend, why fatigue ourselves with anything of the kind? There is only one side from which to see it. Shall I leave my husband, whom I hate, with right and reason, and my friends whom I love, to go away with you, whom I adore, and of whom I know nothing?’ ‘Know nothing of me!’ echoed Hans, forgetting his rapture in his surprise at her words. ‘Why, Fulvia, you have known me for six years--six whole years.’ ‘I have known of you. I have not known you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Don’t leave me in this awful suspense,’ he besought her. ‘Tell me now when you will come. Tell me that you will come.’ ‘I can’t now,’ said Fulvia simply. ‘I am quite decided about one thing. I will not make up my mind when I am vexed and angry, and jarred to my heart’s core, as----’ ‘My darling!’ whispered Hans, a flush of triumph in his dark eyes. ‘As I have been this morning. What I do I will do deliberately. Then I shall be strong enough to go through with it.’ ‘My darling!’ he whispered again. Fulvia’s eyes wavered at the words. ‘Promise me, then, when you will come. Tell me when you will tell me.’ ‘You must give me three days. This is Friday. On Monday I will meet you here again. I promise you that I will have made up my mind.’ ‘Three days!’ repeated Hans. ‘Yes,’ replied Fulvia. ‘It is a terribly short time in which to decide that one will----’ She paused. Hans did not press her farther. He made no complaint. He had marked her words. She did not say, ‘to decide whether one will,’ but ‘that one will.’ The victory was his. ‘Do not let us talk about that any more,’ said Fulvia; ‘it only brings back again all the horrors I have gone through. But do talk of something else.’ ‘About anything that you like,’ replied Hans, who was sitting beside her on the bench, and, with one elbow on his knee and his cheek pressed upon his hand, was looking at her with, as it seemed to Fulvia, all his soul in his eyes. There was all of her soul, at least, in the full gaze which returned his.